


give me hope for something better

by sseagully



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bee Chloé Bourgeois | Queen Bee, Developing Relationship, F/M, Identity Issues, Insecurity, Pre-Relationship, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Snake Luka Couffaine | Viperion, a very small hint of Adrinette, partial reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sseagully/pseuds/sseagully
Summary: Chloé and Luka sit on the rooftop of Le Grand Paris hotel and have a talk that's been a long time coming.
Relationships: Chloé Bourgeois/Luka Couffaine
Comments: 21
Kudos: 87
Collections: August 2020 - Exchange





	give me hope for something better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [L3245](https://archiveofourown.org/users/L3245/gifts).



> Hi Lynn,
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story! Not sure that I nailed your prompt exactly, but I had a lot of fun giving Lukloe a shot! A little bit of fluff made its way in, I’m sorry, but I also added some partial identity angst and anxiety in as well!
> 
> -
> 
> Characters are aged-up. Canon divergent where Chloe is still Queen Bee.

“There you are!”

Throwing open the rooftop door to Le Grand Paris hotel, Chloé stalks over to the lounge chair where Luka has set up camp for the evening. The tips of her perilously tall heels strike loudly against the pavement, a fast paced tempo that completely overpowers the soft dreamy tune he’s been strumming.

“I cannot _believe_ you left me down there with Adrien and Marinette, Couffaine! Those two are sickening, absolutely sickening!” she spits. “And to top it all off, you chose the one place in the hotel that requires me to take the stairs?”

She pointedly bends her knee, lifting her leg up so her ankle is displayed close to his face. Luka follows the line of her toned calf down to her dainty foot, which is encased in a very strappy, very yellow high heel.

Arms crossed and eyebrow raised expectantly, Chloé settles herself on the chair across from his and says, “These are Jimmy Choos, I’ll have you know!”

“I don’t know what that means,” Luka fibs with a shrug, hiding a smile when his casual remark just makes her bristle further.

“Ridiculous,” she hisses. “Utterly ridiculous!”

Luka holds his laughter in his mouth and lets it flow out through his guitar instead, playing a few joyful chords and guiding them into a gentle vibrato as they naturally fade away.

“So you came up here just to mess around on your guitar like always?” Chloé asks when the silence returns. Her words carry more bite than her tone, a sign that she’s probably over her fit about the stairs and is starting to appreciate the break from the party herself.

“Yeah. Your father found me playing in a corner and banished me from the main area,” Luka replies coolly.

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “Daddy can be so needlessly dramatic.” It’s the closest he’ll get to an apology, he knows.

“Why do you even invite me to these things?” Luka asks, tone tight, his grip on the strap of his guitar even tighter as he carefully moves his instrument to the side. He couldn’t care less what the likes of Andre Bourgeois thinks of him but that doesn’t lessen the sting of being looked down upon like he’s _less_ , like his very existence requires some sort of apology.

“If they bother you so much, why do you always come?” Chloé shoots back, not missing a beat.

“Hard to decline an invitation from the beautiful Queen Bee, hero of Paris.”

“Are you flirting with me?” she asks, mouth twisting into a pout. “Stop it. You know I’m already spoken for.”

“Oh? Are you?”

Something in his voice must have carried a bit more humor than intended, because Chloé zeroes in on him with a fierce glare. The easy set to her shoulders disappears as she regains all the tension and then some from when she first sat down.

“Viperion will come around any day now,” Chloé snaps. “He’d be an utter fool if he didn’t see what was right in front of him.”

“Mm,” Luka hums thoughtfully.

“It’s just that his personality is quite discerning, I’ll have you know. Almost as discerning as my own! We’re obviously a perfect match.”

“Sure.”

“Like you said, I’m Queen Bee, actual superhero extraordinaire! I’m brave, selfless, smart.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m _gorgeous_ , everyone can agree on that. We’d be the most beautiful couple in town.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I’ve told him all of this multiple times, but he…” Chloé stops short, winces.

“But he...?” Luka repeats, brow raised.

Her bravado, the protective shield she’s wielded since lycee, perhaps even since childhood, wavers at his neutral prodding. In that moment, he can see her weighing the pros of dropping her attitude and being real with him against the cons of becoming vulnerable, exposing that softer side of herself. Watching her decide on the former makes the dragon in his chest unfurl, its claw coming out to snatch this moment and add it to its nest of treasured memories.

Chloé bits her lip, forgetting about her carefully applied gloss, blustery act gone. Blowing out a loud breath, she says, “I just don’t understand why he isn’t making a move.” She swings her long golden ponytail to the side to briefly hide the uncertain expression on her face.

It might work if he wasn’t looking, but these days, Luka is always looking.

“I can’t imagine,” Luka says dryly. His hand drums for an imaginary song against the side of the lounge chair, his thick rings clinking discordantly against the metal. Chloé swats at his hand.

“Stop that,” she hisses. “I’m being serious, you know!”

“Sorry,” Luka says, and means it. These days, he’s in knots over this girl, completely twisted up and turned around, to the point where he scarcely remembers what’s up or what’s down anymore. He wants to be sweet, wants to treat her preciously, but age-old habits of antagonism and passive-aggressiveness from their earlier days are hard to break, leaving him a mix of both his best and his worst behaviors in one confusing package.

Another look at her annoyed face, clear of its usual mask and pretense, ignites a strong desire in him suddenly to return her honesty. Level the playing field, so to speak.

“He’s probably afraid,” Luka admits after a healthy hesitation, feeling a rush of embarrassment at just saying those words aloud.

“Afraid?” Chloé asks with a scoff. “But he’s the bravest person I —”

“Yes,” he says, seriously enough that it catches her full attention. “He’s terrified.”

She pauses. “Of what?”

 _That you have this perfect image of the guy behind the mask and I’m never going to be able to live up to it_ , Luka thinks to himself as he stares down at his sneakers.

They’re his best pair, but even with him meticulously keeping them neat and replacing the laces every so often, they’re scuffed up in several spots, lovingly well-worn.Thankfully, the canvas up by his ankles that Jules and Marinette have graffitied over time are artfully hidden by the long legs of his jeans, which are colored so deeply black, they might even look like dress pants to an untrained eye — or so he hopes. His button up is a gentle grey, just light enough to boast every single wrinkle and stain proudly.

In short, he looks a mess. It’s really no wonder M. Bourgeois chased him out of the party within the first hour.

He wants to explain all of this to Chloé, but the words fail him, as they always do, caught in his throat and stuck there like a song half finished, a melody half composed.

“Let me try to show you what I see,” he finally says, pulling his guitar back into his lap. She rolls her eyes but it’s more for show than anything else, he can tell by the way she otherwise stays quiet and leaves him to communicate in his own way.

First, he plays a few bars of a classical guitar piece, all the notes perfect and pristine, a technically pleasing performance. “This is how you think about him,” Luka says, then takes a deep breath. Plays again. But this time, it’s a faster tune, with crashing chords and a lilting tempo. Messy, dynamic, a song of many colors. “And this is him, the real him, underneath the mask and the Miraculous.”

Chloé stares at him thoughtfully. His heart races. It’s moments like this that he feels like a high-wire act in a circus, balancing on a delicate rope, fraught with uncertainty on both sides of the line.

Does she know?

And is he prepared if she does?

“Interesting,” she says, giving absolutely nothing away.

“Can you hear the difference?” he asks, mouth dry. _Can you hear what I'm saying?_

Chloé makes a vague sound of assent, still infuriatingly neutral.

Somehow, it's as if playing those two songs has cleared the road between his brain and his mouth, leaving him clear to communicate with the words he struggled with only a few minutes before.

“It’s just a theory but I think he might be trying to keep some distance because he isn’t sure you want everything that comes with the person underneath the mask. If you,” Luka pauses, swallows. “If you really do want him, then tell him that. Stop with the games and all the ‘perfect’ talk. Be real.”

“You make an interesting point,” Chloé says slowly with all the diplomacy that comes from being raised by a politician. “I suppose I can consider it.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. This is her saying, _I’m not ready yet_ , Luka realizes with a flash.

That’s okay, he can respect that answer. After all, he isn’t quite ready himself, so there’s no real need to rush anything along. In his past relationships, it felt like Luka was always the patient one, the first one ready, yet somehow still the one prone to getting left behind. But this time feels different. They each have their own hang-ups and doubts; he imagines that if they do ever become more than friends, it will be the two of them diving in headfirst and side by side — not one following after the other, delayed and out of sync, but together, done in perfect tandem.

He chances one last look at Chloé’s profile in the near-dark, heart skipping out of rhythm when he sees the light flush dusting her cheekbones; their gazes meet and he nearly melts in the softness of her baby blues.

 _Not ready yet_ , her words had said.

 _But maybe soon_ , her eyes say.

Luka smiles up at the night sky, something electric floating beneath his skin. He wants to pull down the stars one by one to toss them into her golden hair. He wants to scoop up the moon and use it as a guitar pick to play out what will become their melody.

 _Soon_ , his heart sings. Soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, hope you all enjoyed! 
> 
> Written for the August 2020 Miraculous Fanworks discord server exchange for L3245
> 
> If you think you might enjoy participating in events like this one, or just hanging out with other readers/writers/artists in the MLB fandom, consider joining us on discord here: [Click me!](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks)


End file.
